


Food for Thought

by The_Girl_Wednesday



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Felicity taking care of Oliver, Friendship, Making Dinner, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Girl_Wednesday/pseuds/The_Girl_Wednesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Oliver isn't going to take care of himself, someone has to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food for Thought

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta-ed. I apologize for any mistakes or if it's just crap.  
> Also, if you like it, my Tumblr http://the-girl-wednesday.tumblr.com/
> 
> I do not own Arrow or any of it's characters. I think that's probably obvious :)

     They had all eaten a lot of Big Belly Burger in the past, especially recently, but really, this was just getting ridiculous.  Felicity saw the trashcan completely full of burger wrappers and plastic cups on her way out of the foundry Thursday night.  The nearly empty box of protein bars she had seen the night before.  Oliver wasn’t taking care of himself, not like he should, anyway, and it had her worried.  He was living in the foundry now and sleeping on the floor.  He spent most of his days hidden away down there repairing the damage from Slade’s attack, working out, fashioning arrows, or occasionally catching up on sleep, and since vigilante work was a strictly night time activity, Felicity was pretty sure it had been a while since he’d seen the sun for more than a few minutes at a time.  She worried about all of this, about _him_ , her whole drive home, but it was his current eating habits that had her especially concerned.  As she walked through her front door, Felicity couldn’t get out of her mind what Oliver “I’m very particular about what it is I put in my body” Queen was now putting into his body on a regular basis.  But it wasn’t just his health she was worried about.  How long had it been since Oliver had had a home cooked meal?  How long had it been since he’d really had a home in which to eat one?  With that thought, Felicity made up her mind.

     She called him up around three the next afternoon, and he answered her after the first ring.

     “Felicity, hey!  What’s up?”

     He seemed pleased to hear from her, and it brought a small smile to her lips.  “Well, I love to cook, but it’s not exactly something I’ve had a lot of time for recently, only today, since we don’t have to go to work, I’ve got all the time in the world.  Except cooking for yourself isn’t nearly as fun.  It’s actually a little sad, I think, so I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner before I came to the foundry tonight.  Not to mention cooking for one person takes as much effort as cooking for two, so really it’s kind of a waste if you don’t come over.”

     “You want me to come over for a homemade dinner?”

     “Yeah. I mean only if you want to.  You don’t have to, obviously. It’s totally up to you.”

     “Felicity, I’d love to.  It sounds great.  Can I bring anything?”

     “Oh, awesome. And I’ve got everything covered.  Just got back from the store, actually. Seven?”

     “Seven sounds great. I’ll see you then. Bye.”

     “Bye.”

     Oliver had sounded almost eager, or as close to eager as she thought it was possible for him to sound, and Felicity was incredibly pleased with her plan.

>>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------>

     As Oliver trotted up the path towards Felicity’s front door, he did his best to reign in the smile he knew was spread over his face.  Instead of another night of take-out alone in the foundry, he was eating with Felicity.  She had invited him to her home, and she was cooking him dinner.  He didn’t even try to delude himself into thinking he wasn’t thrilled about it, but there was no need for her to answer the door and find him grinning at her like a fool.  With what he hoped was a moderately sensible expression, Oliver rang the doorbell.  He only had to wait a moment before Felicity answered.  She had an apron tied around her waist, and she was so completely adorable Oliver had half a mind to ask her to marry him right then and there.  With a bright, “Hey!” Felicity stepped aside to let him in.  “You’re on time.  I’m proud of you.”

     “Well, with an offer as good as a homemade dinner, I couldn’t risk being late.  You might decide not to let me in.”

     “We both know I wouldn’t do that,” she answered with a smile, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth.  As Oliver followed her into the kitchen, he was hit with the scent of dinner cooking, and he thought it was quite possibly the best thing he had ever smelled in his entire life.

     “Mmmm,” he hummed, inhaling deeply, “that smells amazing.  What are we having?”

     “Thanks.  It’s herbed chicken with lemon, rosemary new potatoes, and roasted vegetables.”

     “Sounds great.  Is there anything I can do to help?”

     “Mind setting the table? Dishes are in the cabinet above the dishwasher.  Silverware is in that drawer, and glasses are in the cabinet over there,” she said, pointing as she spoke.  “Everything else is pretty much done.”

     Felicity turned back to the stove while Oliver began setting the table.  “I also raided the wine cellar,” she continued, nodding her head towards the counter where a bottle of red wine sat waiting.  “And by wine cellar I of course mean the cabinet under the kitchen island.  You can open that up, too, if you want.  Bottle opener’s in the silverware drawer.”

     Oliver went about setting the table and opening the wine while Felicity picked up a deep purple pot holder and began scooping their dinner out of the pans and into serving dishes.  Oliver poured their wine, and Felicity carried the dishes to the table.  She walked back into the kitchen, and Oliver watched her from the corner of his eye as she tugged on her apron string and it fell loose from about her waist.  She swished it onto the counter with a flourish, turned on the ball of her foot to face him, and flounced back to the table.  Oliver, who had waited for her to sit down, did what he thought was a perfectly friendly thing to do and pulled her chair out for her before taking his seat across from her.  That was acceptable, right? There was no reason a friend couldn’t pull out another friend’s chair.  There didn’t have to be anything romantic about it.

     “Help yourself,” Felicity said as she passed him the plate of chicken before spooning potatoes onto her own plate.  After he had served himself, Oliver looked across to Felicity, who already had her eyes on him. 

     “Well, dig in.” She said it in a half-joking sort of way, but she seemed almost anxious for Oliver to try it, and he was more than happy to oblige. 

     “Mmmm! Felicity, this is amazing.  I had no idea you could cook like this.  Who taught you?”

     “I, uh, taught myself, actually.”

     “Really? That’s quite the accomplishment.”

     “Growing up, my mom always worked nights so I was left to fend for myself when it came to meal time.  Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t blame her for it at all.  She did what she had to to take care of me.  I’ll always be grateful to her for that, but microwave dinners get old fast.  When I was nine and old enough to manage working the stove without lighting myself or our apartment on fire, I taught myself to cook.  I used to make us both dinner.  I’d eat mine then and put hers in the fridge for when she got home.  She worked; I made dinner.  We took care of each other.”

     Oliver didn’t know what to say.  Felicity was almost as unwilling to talk about her past as he was his.  It warmed his heart that she had shared that with him and that she had done this for him.  It was then that it hit him exactly what it was she had done for him, that night and so many other nights. 

     “Thank you,” he said, a small, tender smile softening the line of his mouth. 

     “For what?” she asked, tilting her head at him so similarly to the way she had the first day they met.

     “For taking care of me—tonight and every other night.  You don’t have to, but you do.  Thank you.”

     “Oliver, you take care of everyone else, the entire _city_.  You need someone who takes care of you.”

     “You’re right.  I do.”  He paused for a moment to look at her and let out quiet sigh.  “I’m glad that it’s you.”

     “I’m glad that it’s me, too.”

     Their eyes locked across the table, and there was a long stretch of peaceful quiet.

     “So,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter than it had been before, “what made you decide making dinner was the best way to take care of me?”

     A quiet laugh broke across her breath.  “Oliver, you’ve been surviving off Big Belly Burger and protein bars.  What better way could there have possibly been to take care of you?”

     The grin that had been threatening to tear across Oliver’s face since Felicity had invited him that afternoon finally broke free, and a small huff that might have been called a laugh escaped though his nose as he nodded his head.  He didn’t agree, but he would let her think he did.  As much as he appreciated and was enjoying the meal, Oliver could think of quite a few ways he would prefer to let Felicity take care of him and just as many ways he would like to take care of her, but now was not the time to be thinking about that.  He was alone with her in her home, and if he didn’t watch himself, he would be letting her know exactly what those ways were. 

     Felicity and Oliver settled into easy conversation as they ate.  After they had finished their meal and cleared the table together, they moved, wine glasses in hand, to sit on the couch, Oliver grabbing the bottle from the table as he passed.  They settled themselves comfortably beside each other, and it seemed like barely a minute had passed when Felicity’s phone beeped an alert. 

     “It’s Dig.  He wants to know where we are and why we’re not… Oh! It’s 9:15!  We were supposed to meet him at the foundry half an hour ago.  We’d better get going.”

     Oliver was more than a little disappointed.  Even though he would be with her in the foundry, it wouldn’t be the same.  He didn't want to leave the comfort of her home, the comfort of having her sitting beside him on a couch.  But he had a duty to the city, a mission, and as much as he might want to, he couldn’t let his own selfish desires get in the way.  So he stood and reached a hand down to help Felicity up.  She took their now empty glasses into the kitchen, and he walked toward the entry way.  She joined him there, and as she slipped on her shoes, he put on his jacket, before helping her slide into hers, and they were out the door.

>>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------> >>\------>

     Felicity looked back in her review mirror to see Oliver still following her to the foundry.  He had kept pace with her the entire way so far, even though she was driving nearly ten miles an hour slower than he normally would.  It made her smile, despite her not being able to pinpoint exactly what it was about it she found so sweet.   After a moment’s thought, she supposed it must be that he was refusing to leave her side, refusing to let her fall away from him.  And she knew he was, in a large part, simply acting in typical Oliver fashion.  He wanted to stay next to her; he wanted to keep her safe so that in the extremely unlikely event that something should happen to her on the drive from her home to the foundry, he would be there.  He was taking care of her.  She supposed that was just what they did.  They took care of each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated. :) Hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Once again, if you'd like it, my Tumblr http://the-girl-wednesday.tumblr.com/


End file.
